


Red is Our Colour

by McParrot



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Rugby, Rugby World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McParrot/pseuds/McParrot
Summary: Jack twice promised certain Welshman that if Wales made it into the finals of the Rugby World Cup he would go with him to the game. He can't take Ianto and he can't quite manage to take the other one (and it's a semi final not a final), but he's going to make sure it's a good occasion anyway.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Other(s)
Kudos: 4





	Red is Our Colour

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately Wales didn't make the final of the Rugby World Cup tonight, so we'll have to use the semifinal instead. This story is not what I thought I was writing when I sat down to start it (just before the game started). I had envisaged Jack, Rhys and some old rugby player swapping rugby jokes and giving a blow by blow account of the play. Sorry, that's not what came out.  
> I could not see Wales doing so well at the World Cup and not think of Ianto. I'm pretty sure Jack would have been thinking of him too.  
> COE compliant and I think Miracle Day compliant too (although I haven't seen the end so I may be wrong).  
> McParrot is uploading all of her fan fic onto AO3  
> These pieces have not been updated or re-edited  
> This piece originally posted on LJ October 16 2011 (that's 2 Rugby World Cups ago). Doesn't time fly.

It was quite a nice rest home, as far as these sorts of places went. Flower beds along the driveway, lawn in front. The building was an old house converted for its current use and if you squinted a little you could still imagine ladies in tea dresses playing croquet and sipping Pimms on the terrace. Until you walked in the door and the desk in the middle of the foyer and railings along the walls showed you exactly what the place was, that and a faint scent of urine over laid with janola that wormed into your nostrils.

‘I’m a little early,’ Jack beamed at the receptionist.

‘No worries,’ she smiled back. ‘Bryn’s been ready since about five this morning. He’s delighted to be going out to see the game. Reckons you can’t get the atmosphere right in here at all. Especially at this time of day.’ She squinted up at him. ‘You’re a relative then are you?’

‘That’s right,’ Jack lied easily. ‘Son of one of his cousins. It’s been a family thing. We always said if Wales ever got to the finals of the Rugby World Cup then one of us would have to make sure Uncle Bryn got to see it in style.’ Jack gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘I know it’s only a semi final…’

‘Oh that’s right. He played for Wales himself didn’t he? I remember now. Didn’t his team beat the All Blacks once?’

‘That’s right,’ Jack said proudly. ‘They did. 1953. It was fantastic.’ It had been too. A 13 to 8 win over the legendary All Blacks at Cardiff Arms Park had had Welsh pride soaring. It had done spectacular things for Jack’s sex life too as his lover and team member had felt the need to celebrate for at least a week.

‘So lovely that some of his family remember him. Poor Bryn doesn’t get many visitors. He never married you know.’

Jack felt a little guilty about that. He’d visited, off and on, but…

‘Oh, here he is,’ the girl said.

Jack swept forward and collected the figure shuffling towards him into a hug. Momentarily 58 years fell away and the man in his arms was young and fit and strong. ‘Bryn.’

‘Jack,’ the man sighed into his shoulder, hugging him back. ‘So good to see you.’

Jack found himself a bit teary. ‘Come on old man.’ He pulled away. ‘Best not give your nurse there too much of a show.’

‘Hey, less of the old,’ but Bryn stepped away too. ‘But yes, this lot already think I’m odd without snogging my… what are you? Grandson or something?’

‘Son of a cousin.’ Jack tucked the old man’s hand into his elbow. ‘You ready?’

The young woman had joined them. ‘Got your pills darling?’

Bryn rolled his eyes. ‘Yes.’ He stuck out his tongue. ‘I’m not two years old you know and I’m not your darling. I’ve got my tablets, my blood pressure is fine and I’m going out with this delightful young,’ he sniggered, ‘man.’ He stopped at the desk and signed himself out. ‘I’ll be back for tea, or possibly bed.’ He grinned at Jack who grinned back, ‘or possibly not at all. Don’t wait up.’ And he and Jack swept (a little slowly) out into the crisp early morning sunshine.

twtwtwtwtwtwtwtw

‘Not that I’m not grateful,’ Bryn said as Jack started the car, ‘but why come and see me now?’

Jack drove out the sweeping curve of the driveway. The weather was nice; he should have brought the convertible. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

Bryn pretended to think and Jack loved that he just didn’t have to pretend about anything with this man. ‘Oh yes, Welsh men in tight shorts playing world class rugby. I can see how that would make you think of me.’

‘You still have a mighty fine arse,’ Jack told him.

Bryn smiled and the man he had been was still there. ‘Oh yes. I copped you having a feel while we were having that platonic family member hug.’

‘Well I didn’t notice you complaining.’

‘I never complain about anything you do. Hard to argue with a force of nature,’ he mumbled under his breath, ‘Or to tame it.’

‘Is that what you think of me?’ The car was heading back in towards the city centre. Jack checked the time. Kick off was at nine. A game in the southern hemisphere meant early morning watching here. They should make it in time.

Bryn put his fingers to his lips, his hand shaking just slightly, as if remembering long ago kisses. ‘I think I’m old enough now Jack to say what I think. It’s not going to make any difference to anything anymore is it?’ He put his hand on Jack’s leg. ‘You’re lonely Jack. I can feel it. Is that why you came to me?’

‘I moved on,’ Jack told him.

Bryn smiled at him, ‘Strangely Jack, so did I.’ He shrugged. ‘No regrets. Well not many.’

Jack hit the brakes just a little too hard at the lights and they both jerked into their belts. ‘I loved you once.’

‘I know. I love you still. Especially when I see you sitting there, as young and beautiful as you are in my memories.’

Jack struggled around the lump in his throat. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know.’ Bryn patted his leg again. ‘We both knew. They were good days though.’

‘Oh yeah.’ Jack smirked. ‘You looked fantastic in that shirt.’

Bryn grinned. ‘Look at this.’ He pulled up his pullover. Underneath it was his old Welsh rugby jersey. The one he’d worn in that historic game. ‘I wore it special. You always said red was my colour.’

Suddenly Jack could barely see for tears.

‘What is it lad?’ Bryn was alarmed.

Jack pulled over. He buried his head in his hands, trying to get himself under control. Most of the time, being back on earth, it was years for him and he was alright, but just occasionally things caught him and hurt, hurt like knives in his chest.

‘Jack?’

He felt a hand warm on his shoulder. It moved, stroking gently, landing on the back of his neck. It was such a familiar touch and Jack realised that he hadn’t forgotten anything about Bryn and maybe he wouldn’t forget anything about Ianto either. ‘Tell me Jack.’ The voice was quavery, didn’t fit with his sense memory, ‘Because I can tell things aren’t right.’ His ex lover’s thumb stroked up his neck and back down to his collar bone. ‘I lied you know. You don’t look like I remember you at all. You look eons older.’ The hand moved up to his hair and rubbed at his scalp. ‘You look gaunt and terrible. How long have you lived now? What happened Jack?’

Bryn had always been brutally honest. Jack had loved that about him, when he wasn’t hating him for it. So he told him; the 456, Ianto and Steven, his time away and years of self abuse and alcohol before the “Miracle” called him home. ‘Red was Ianto’s colour too,’ he finished softly.

‘Ah Jack.’ A kiss was placed on his temple. ‘You always were afraid of getting too attached.’ A fresh washed handkerchief was pressed into his hand. Jack snuffled and blew his nose. He finally raised his head, well aware that his eyes were red and blotchy. Bryn was looking at him sadly. ‘He must have really been something,’ he said gently.

‘He was.’ Jack blotted his eyes, ‘He was. But it wasn’t just him. It was what we had. We were Torchwood but it wasn’t like Torchwood had been, when you knew me. It wasn’t just an organisation any more. I was in charge.’ He didn’t quite know how to explain it. ‘It was a home.’ He took some deep breaths and started to get himself back together. ‘When I lost Ianto and Steven I lost everything.’ He tried to smile. ‘For a little while there I’d had a home.’

‘And yet,’ Bryn said quietly, ‘here you are. Out of all of time and space, here you are, back in Cardiff. Keeping to linear time. You told me once that if you ever got that strap fixed you’d be away from here so fast…’

Jack gave a watery smile. ‘Famous last words. And besides, I have now promised two beautiful Welshmen that if Wales ever gets into the finals of the Rugby World Cup I would take them to the game. I can’t manage that,’ Jack squeezed the old man’s hand, ‘but I can at least make sure you see it better than on that tiny tele in the resthome lounge.’ He glanced at the dashboard clock. ‘Oh shit, we’re late.’ He swung the car back out into the traffic.

Bryn laughed. ‘I hate to break it to you, but it’s years since you visited and we now have a wall size HD super skinny flash TV and satellite to go with it. The whole place will be wearing red and watching this morning. They’re even serving sausage rolls.’ He laughed at Jack’s face. ‘I would have been guest of honour but I wouldn’t miss going out with you for the world.’ He sounded smug. ‘So where are we going. A pub? The Millennium Stadium? ’

‘Ah. Ah no. A friend’s. They’ve got a big screen TV.’ He glared at Bryn. ‘Rhys will be making sausage rolls.’

Bryn laughed. ‘Champion.’ The impish grin hadn’t changed in fifty odd years. ‘Put your bloody foot down. I don’t want to miss the kick off.’

Twtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtw

‘They’re late,’ Gwen said as the National Anthem ended.

Rhys took a sip of his beer. It was only 9 in the morning but the occasion deserved beer. ‘You said Jack was bringing a friend right? They’ll have stopped for a shag.’

‘Blow jobs in the front seat,’ Gwen sniggered. ‘He and Ianto used to…’ She swallowed and looked at Rhys. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah,’ Rhys agreed.

‘Anyway,’ Gwen said. ‘Jack’s not very interested in rugby. Can you believe it? He told me once that he’d never even seen a live rugby game. And he lived in bloody Cardiff for over a century.’

‘He was pulling your leg love,’ Rhys said kindly. ‘I met him and Ianto to watch games all the time. Jack used to play.’ He laughed when Gwen gaped at him. ‘Plus he told me that he’d dated one of the 1953 team that beat the All Blacks.’

Gwen laughed. ‘Of course he did. Oh thank god, there’s the door bell.’

She had a grin on her face as she opened the door. ‘Stopped for a quickie did you Harkness?’ Her grin faltered as she saw the elderly man Jack was helping up the stairs. ‘Oh. Uh. Sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ the man smirked. ‘It was really good.’ He smiled fondly at Jack.

‘Oh God,’ Gwen moaned. ‘Another one of his exes.’ She stood back. ‘Come in.’ Jack’s smile wasn’t at it usual high watt level. Had he been thinking of Ianto too, or, Gwen glanced at his companion, was there something else happening here?

‘Hurry up,’ Rhys yelled from the living room, ‘they’re about to kick off.’

Gwen took their coats and as they entered the living room Jack’s friend peeled off his pullover. ‘Bloody hell,’ Rhys whistled as a faded red Welsh shirt came into view. ‘That shirt’s the genuine article.’ He stood up and offered his hand. ‘Rhys Williams.’ Gwen could tell that he really wanted to stroke the shirt. ‘This is my wife Gwen.’

The man shook his hand. ‘Bryn…’

Gwen saw her husband’s eyes go wide. ‘The 1953 Welsh International?’

Bryn nodded.

‘And you and him?’ Rhys jerked his head towards Jack.

Bryn laughed and nodded again.

‘Harkness,’ Rhys said awed. ‘I will never doubt your stories, ever again.’

Jack smirked, and the sadness Gwen had seen in his eyes disappeared. ‘Really? Have I ever told you about…’

Bryn sat himself on the sofa and reached for a beer and a sausage roll.


End file.
